First Comes Love
by maricsblade
Summary: A series of unexpected events leads Marian and Fenris to consider a more permanent arrangement. Kink!meme fill, but rated T for now.
1. Chapter 1

_Response to a kink!meme prompt, which I'll post at the end._

_Have I mentioned lately that I looooove constructive criticism? :-)_

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"Never? You've never thought about it? I don't believe you, Fenris."

Down on one knee, Marian cooed and ruffled the toddler's golden curls. The girl's big blue eyes were tinged with green, and when she smiled her little pink tongue poked out between her teeth. The armorer's daughter was absolutely darling. Marian felt sorry that the man had to watch over her while trying to conduct his day's business.

"Why would I have?" Fenris asked with a shrug. "Slaves serve their masters. For all but a fortunate few, a spouse and children are not an option."

Marian stood and took his arm. "Good day, Serah," she told the armorer.

It was late afternoon and they were weaving their way through long shadows of the Hightown market, headed in the general direction of Hawke's home. The scent of grilled meat wafted from a vendor's stall, and Marian's stomach growled as she thought of the chicken-and-olive dish that Orana had planned to cook for supper.

"I'm surprised, that's all. The way you always yearned to be free…didn't you imagine what your life would be like if you ever escaped?"

"I did," Fenris admitted. "But I imagined a life on the run. I never dreamed I would truly be free, able to settle down. Besides, it is difficult to think of providing for a family when you do not even own the clothing on your back."

Marian pulled him toward her and kissed his cheek. She felt his body stiffen. He hated it when she felt sorry for him. She tried, more often than not, to spare him those sentiments, but sometimes she just couldn't help it. Imagining his life before…she really _couldn't_. His existence under Danarius was unfathomable to her. Even now, having known him for several years, she would occasionally be surprised by new, unpleasant details.

Just then, a dark and familiar thought tried to make its way into her consciousness. She willed it away before Fenris could see her frown.

"Shall we pick up some fruit for dessert?" she asked, changing the subject. "Those mangoes over there look delicious."

"They do," he agreed. "And Sandal will enjoy them."

She made a beeline for the fruit stall and pulled a few coins from her purse.

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Just as Marian had guessed, delicious smells were emanating from the kitchen when she and Fenris walked in the front door.

"Hello, Messeres!" Bodahn greeted them. "Have a nice excursion today? You really should take time off more freq…"

"We did, Bodahn, thank you," Marian replied. She loved Bodahn as if he were a member of her own family. But some days, he could talk the ear off an elephant. She generally didn't like interrupting people, but she made an exception in his case. And Merrill's.

"Look, Sandal," she said to the other dwarven resident of her estate, holding out the paper bag in front of her. "Mangoes!"

Sandal lurched toward her, hands outstretched, but she pulled the sack back to her chest. "Ah, ah—after dinner," she said. "And you have to eat everything on your plate first."

"Okay," he said simply, then dropped clumsily to the floor to play with Rex.

"Just a few more minutes, Mistress," Orana called from the kitchen.

Presently, they took their places at the antique cherrywood dining table. It was the first time Orana had tried the chicken recipe, but it had turned out perfectly. Everyone made sure to tell her so, amid the clanking of cutlery and the tinkling of wine glasses and the exchanging of the day's news.

She was about to say how grateful she was to have a house full of wonderful people when her eyes passed over the painting of her mother and Bethany hanging on the opposite wall. She choked back her words.

"It was a lovely meal, Orana," she said instead. "Thank you."

"You are welcome, Mistress."

"I think that sending you to cooking school was an excellent investment."

"Thank you, Mistress." Orana's cheeks and ears were tinged with pink, but Marian knew that she secretly took great pride in her cooking. Since receiving her diploma, Orana had seemed to stand a bit taller, and the members of the household rarely had to ask her to repeat herself anymore.

Marian set her napkin aside and turned to Fenris. "Are you up for a reading lesson this evening?"

Orana had gone to night school as well as cooking school, for her general education and to read the increasingly elaborate cookbooks that Marian bought for her. But for reasons noble and not so noble, Marian preferred to teach Fenris herself.

"Let's go for a walk first," Fenris suggested. "I'm feeling a bit restless."

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An hour later they were lying naked in Marian's bed. Fenris peered into a book by the light of an oil lamp hung just above his head expressly for this purpose.

"Her…hips…un…doo…lat…ted…"

"Un…dyoo…lated," Hawke corrected gently.

"Why do you have me read these things?" Fenris asked, fighting to suppress the smile in his voice. "They are beneath you."

"Because Isabela has left them everywhere, and they're exactly your reading level," Marian replied, reaching over and closing the book. "If they happen to give you ideas about _me_ being beneath _you_, all the better," she teased, batting her eyelashes.

"And you wonder why I never get anywhere," he growled.

Marian snuggled into to his chest and peered into his bottomless, jade-toned eyes. "I'm a bad teacher, Fenris. I need to be punished!"

"That does not become you either," he said, smirking. In a flash, he rolled onto his side and pinned Marian's arms above her head.

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They woke just after daybreak. Today they would prepare for a trip to the Wounded Coast to save some nobleman's fool daughter. Fenris grunted incoherently as he dragged himself out of bed and lurched toward the bathroom, and Marian pulled the sheets back over her head.

A few minutes later, she heard a knock at her door.

"There's an urgent message for you, Messere," Bodahn announced, his voice muffled by the wall of wood between them.

She threw on her robe, opened the door, and held out her hand. "No rest for the wicked, I see."

"The reward for work well done is…more work, I'm afraid," Bodahn replied as he lay the letter across her palm.

"Thank you, Bodahn."

As she swung the door closed, the seal of the Kirkwall Templars caught her eye. She quickly loosened the red wax.

_Serah Hawke,_

_There is an urgent matter that I must discuss with you._

_If you are able, come round my office today and ask for me. If I'm not in, I won't be far._

_If you cannot, please send word immediately and I will make other arrangements._

_With my sincere thanks,_

_Knight-Captain Cullen_

Just then Fenris appeared from the bathroom, drying himself off with a towel.

"I never get tired of staring at your markings," Marian said with a giggle, her eyes fixed on his chest.

"Luckily for you, I never tire of being stared at," he replied.

"So, what do you say?" she asked, waving the letter in the air. "Do we go and save the nobleman's daughter, or do we see what intrigue Knight-Captain Cullen has in store for us? Obviously the nobleman's daughter is in trouble, but Cullen doesn't seem the type of man to ask for idle favors."

"True." Fenris reached for the note, and she paused for a moment before handing it to him.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I forget that you can actually read now. It's so exciting!"

Fenris looked the piece of paper over carefully, then looked up at her and handed it back. "We should visit the Knight-Captain. If need be, we can still go to the Coast later today."

"Done. I suppose I should skip my bath though," she said with a grimace. She'd spoiled herself by bathing almost every day since moving out of Gamlen's house. Now, missing it was enough to leave her out of sorts until the next opportunity.

"Yes, I suppose you should."

She sighed, already feeling her shirt sticking to her skin under her armor. "You know, sometimes I hate it when you agree with me."

They dressed as quickly as they could, and with brief goodbyes to the staff, they headed out the door in the direction of the Gallows.


	2. Chapter 2

_In the last chapter, Marian and Fenris received a mysterious note from Knight-Captain Cullen asking them to meet him at the Gallows._

_Reviews are love :-)_

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By the time Marian and Fenris climbed out of the ferry onto the black, rocky shore of the Gallows, the sun was high overhead and the smell of fish was strong in their noses. They had only taken a few steps into the courtyard when a strapping, dark-haired templar approached Marian and placed a gauntleted hand on her elbow.

"This way, Serah," he said quickly, then lowered his voice. "Knight-Captain Cullen is expecting you."

Marian glanced briefly around the sparsely populated courtyard. Templars stood idly in groups of two or three, their heavy armor glinting in the baking-hot sun. From a stall to her right came the familiar sounds of a hammer beating metal. _Busiest armorer in Kirkwall, no doubt,_ Marian noted absently, as her eyes continued to take in the scene. A hawk screamed overhead.

Nothing seemed amiss. "Thank you," she told the templar. "Please, lead the way."

She and Fenris followed him to a deserted area on the east side of the Gallows where several humble, possibly abandoned residences opened onto a small courtyard. The templar led them to a heavily battered door criss-crossed with wooden planks. He glanced around, making sure they weren't being watched or followed, then rapped on it twice. After a moment, the door began to move inward. Marian noted that the planks had been sawed cleanly in several places, allowing it to swing on its hinges despite all appearances to the contrary.

She and Fenris exchanged wary glances as the templar ushered them inside. The windows had been nailed over as well, making the room both dark and dank. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, Marian began to make out the figures of two additional templars seated at a rough-hewn table along the back wall.

"Hawke." It was Cullen's voice. He pushed his chair back from the table to rise and greet her. "I'm sorry to meet you like this. It's almost impossible to get away from the Gallows without being noticed, so we had to make do."

"What is this, some kind of templar safehouse?" Marian asked, trying to read his eyes in the dim light. The whole situation struck her as odd.

"I've mentioned to you that our concerns about Meredith are growing," he explained, gesturing toward two empty seats at the table for her and Fenris. "We've found it necessary to conduct clandestine meetings. That's quite a challenge in a place as tightly guarded as this, and so far, this location has served us well. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that its existence is a closely held secret."

"Clever," she said with a grin.

"Thank you. There's a secret exit as well, leading outside. Anyway, before we continue, let me make some introductions. Marian Hawke, this is Ser Barrie and Ser Goway."

Ser Barrie was the dark-haired man who had met them in the courtyard. Ser Goway was of average height and stout, with curly red hair, and had the look of a man who liked his ale.

"Pleased to meet you both," Marian said, crossing her arms. "This is Fenris, one of my associates."

"Well met," they said, and crossed their arms in greeting. Marian and Fenris took their seats in the rickety chairs.

"I'll get right to the point," the Knight-Captain began. "I received notice yesterday that six mage children are scheduled to arrive in Kirkwall three days from now. But our worries about Meredith have grown so strong that I don't feel comfortable taking them to the Circle. I'm going to make alternate arrangements, and I must work quickly. In the meantime I have six children to hide and nowhere to hide them. I shouldn't need more than a week. Is this something you could help with?"

Hide six mage children for a week? It was one of the oddest requests for help she'd ever received. Marian's opened slightly, then snapped shut.

"I'm not sure," she ventured. "I'm well equipped to deal with thieves, slavers, and Tal-Vashoth. But six children? Where would I put them?" She rubbed her brow, thinking aloud. "My house is actually large enough to keep them, and there are tunnels below where we could hide them in the event of some type of raid. But it's located in a very visible spot in Hightown. I don't know how we could keep them there unnoticed."

Cullen made a sympathetic noise in his throat, but said nothing.

Then an idea came to her. "Please excuse us a moment," she said, putting her hand on Fenris' arm and motioning to an opposite corner of the room.

"What do you think about your mansion?" she whispered, once they were out of earshot.

Fenris' eyes widened and his brow furrowed. "Are you insane?" he asked, his voice impossibly low. "First, as you and the others never fail to remind me, the mansion is in terrible condition. Second, I have no experience minding children, as Danarius had none. Third, these are _mage _children he speaks of. Need I say more?"

"We'd have to get it cleaned up," Marian admitted. "But I'm sure the others would help. Besides, if you aren't going to move in with me, wouldn't you like to have a nice place to live in? Once that's done, surely you can put up with a bunch of harmless children for a few days. I'll even send Orana over to cook for them. I'll stay with you and help, of course."

Fenris frowned again and shook his head. "I cannot believe you are proposing this."

He was right. It was a crazy idea. Marian began running through other scenarios. Anders? Impossible. Even if he hadn't just killed a young mage himself, Darktown was too dangerous and his clinic had no kitchen. Aveline lived in a barracks, Isabela and Varric lived in a tavern, and Merrill was likely to tell them all about the wonders of blood magic. Gamlen could hardly get along with other adults, much less a bunch of little ones.

"There's no other way, Fenris," she insisted. "Your residence is large, it's out of the way…it even has its own courtyard, where they could get some sunshine."

He was silent for several seconds and looked away, as if there were some view out of the boarded-up windows. "Fine," he harrumphed. "But you owe me. I mean, you _really _owe me."

Marian smiled and squeezed his arm. "I'll make it up to you. Don't worry." She saw the disbelief in his eyes, and the squeeze turned into a pinch. "Grumpy old man!"

She strode back to the table and addressed Cullen. "We'll do it," she agreed. "We'll keep—"

Cullen held up a hand. "Please, I don't want to know the details. It will be safer that way."

Of course. What was she thinking? "You're right," she agreed. "How do we proceed, then?"

"Let me know if you see any problems with this," Cullen said, placing his hands flat on the table. "When the ship arrives, Ser Barrie and Ser Goway will meet it as they usually would. Once they're away from the Docks, their wives will join them. The group will look more like a couple of families that way, thought the men will still be wearing their armor. Instead of bringing the children to the Gallows, they will bring them to the place you've arranged in advance. When I've secured another place for the mages to go, I'll make it known to you."

"You're sending them to the Fereldan Circle," Marian guessed.

A smile tugged at the corners of Cullen's mouth. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not."

"It sounds good to me. Fenris? What do you think?"

"No holes that I can see," the elf responded.

"That settles it, then," Cullen said, and rose to his feet. "I'll take my leave now, and the four of you can discuss further details. Hawke, I truly appreciate your going out on a limb for these children."

Marian smiled at him fondly. She'd worried about him once, wondered if his position would harden both his heart and his mind and turn into one of Meredith's automatons. She felt relieved to see that was not the case. "I could do nothing else, Knight-Captain," she said with a shrug.

Cullen nodded to his men. "Ser Barrie, Ser Goway, I'll see you back at the Templar Hall." Then he made his way to the door, peeped out a small hole at eye level, and slipped quietly into the courtyard.

Marian and Fenris worked with the two templars to finalize their plans before leaving in separate groups through the secret exit, hidden behind a false wall. A dark, rocky tunnel, its walls dripping with moisture and harboring multitudes of tiny spiders, finally opened under a boardwalk not one hundred yards from the boat slips. When Marian turned to examine the opening in the rock, she saw a painted sign tacked up next to the wooden door.

"DANGER. LYRIUM. KEEP OUT." It was marked by a skull and crossbones, and the Knight-Commander's seal was painted in the lower right corner.

She laughed and turned to Fenris. "I hope Cullen and his allies can keep themselves safe, until they don't need to anymore."

Fenris snorted. "Let us go," he said dejectedly. "We have a lot of _cleaning_ to do."


	3. Chapter 3

_In the last chapter, Marian and Fenris agreed to help Knight-Captain Cullen hide several young mages to keep them out of the Gallows until he could make alternate arrangements._

_Reviews are love :-)_

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Marian's mind raced as she and Fenris made their way across town from the Docks to the Hanged Man. Three days. They had three days to get Fenris' house—she could not call it a home—clean and safe for six mage children. Marian realized she hadn't bothered to ask Cullen how old they were. If they were being sent to the Circle, she would hope that none was younger than six.

She turned to Fenris. His expression was even more dour than normal, something she hadn't thought was possible. Smiling in sympathy, she reached out and pinched his cheek. "I'll cook your favorite meals for a week," she offered in a sing-song voice.

"Orana will, you mean," he grumbled. "Besides, food means little to me. You know that."

It was true. She herself had a hearty appetite, especially since Orana had finished her training, but Fenris often picked at his food, to the extent that she didn't know how he kept his weight on. Even if she let Orana have a week off and did all the cooking herself, it wouldn't be much consolation in his eyes.

"I know!" she said brightly. "When things calm down again, do you want to visit Antiva? They have excellent vineyards, and it's supposed to be very beautiful. We'll take a month, drink and eat and sleep our way across the country…what do you say?" She knew he wouldn't turn down wine. He adored wine.

"Add another verb to that last sentence, and I am sold," he said, his eyes full of mischief. Marian could see she'd hit on a reward of some interest. She put her hand in his and was rewarded with a warm squeeze. "You are a persuasive woman, Hawke," he added, giving her a wry smile.

The grit in his voice, the way he said the word "woman"—she felt a shiver down to her toes, and was filled with an overwhelming desire to rush him back to the estate. To her bedroom, to be precise. Where they would…

"Do you ever tire of getting your way?" he continued, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb.

"Nope!" she chirped. "What a silly question. Not one _bit!_" She paused for a moment, lost in thought. "Antiva it is, then," she said dreamily. "Late mornings, quiet afternoons, long dinners, longer nights…" As she turned to look at him the sun lit his leggings in a way that accentuated the muscular shape of his thighs. She smiled and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Maker, Fen, I can't _wait_."

"Good. That makes two of us."

A few minutes later they arrived at the Hanged Man, where Isabela and Varric sat hunched over a table in one corner. Isabela looked to be most of the way through a pint, while a half-empty glass of water sat to Varric's right.

"Hawke!" Varric cried out as Marian and Fenris approached. "I'm actually beating Rivaini here at cards. Pull up a chair and cheer me on."

"Switch to beer and we'll see how long this game lasts," Isabela said, smiling knowingly as she tossed back the last of her stout.

"Well, friends, I'm afraid the fun and games are over for a few days," Marian announced as she dropped into the proferred chair. "We've got one big problem and one small one."

"Ah, just my luck," Varric said, tossing his cards good-naturedly onto the table. "Remember, Rivaini. Five to three. We'll pick it up again next time."

"Hope springs eternal," Isabela said with a smirk, rolling her eyes as she turned to Hawke. "So," she said. "What is it now, Hawke?"

It was early midday and the tavern was almost empty, but Marian couldn't take any chances that they'd be overheard. "Let's go to Varric's room," she suggested.

Isabela's browse rose. "I don't suppose this is what I'm hoping it is," she joked, with a lascivious grin.

Marian chuckled and pulled her friend into a sideways hug. "I think you just answered your own question, Izzy. What was it you said? 'Hope springs eternal?' But I suppose none of us can fault you for trying." She rose to leave. "Come on, let's go."

The four of them adjourned to Varric's suite, where Marian told them about the Knight-Captain's request. They decided that Aveline, Isabela, Anders, and Sebastian would go to the Wounded Coast to rescue to the young noblewoman while the rest of them took up mansion-cleaning duty.

"You might have been winning at cards, but I'm getting all the real luck here today," Isabela teased, poking Varric in the ribs. "I'll take a rescue mission over housecleaning any day of the week."

"You always keep me guessing, I'll say that, Hawke," Varric said, shooing Isabela away. "But you know the saying."

"Oh?" Marian looked at him, puzzled. "Which saying is that?"

"Friends help you move. Good friends help you move bodies."

"Har, har," she replied with a chuckle. "Look, I still have to talk to the others, so let's meet at eight bells. We only have two full days, so we'll work until midnight and be back at it by eight in the morning."

Varric shrugged and nodded, giving her his usual expression of amiable resignation. "Maker, Hawke. You really are a slave driver."

The next two-and-a-half days passed quickly as Merrill and Varric helped Marian and Fenris remove debris and scrub walls and floors. The men repaired broken tiles and fixtures and got the kitchen into working order while Marian and Merrill made trips to the market to find inexpensive beds, bedding, tableware, and toys. Orana showed up periodically, bearing sandwiches or salads or casseroles, and everyone would drop what they were doing and descend on her like condemned men being offered their last meal.

On the morning of the last day, Marian sighed as she looked up at the filthy panes of glass in the main hall. "Merrill, I don't suppose you know any window-washing spells," she asked flippantly. The four of them had become listless and short-tempered, and she figured there would be a mutiny if she dared suggest washing them.

"No, I don't," Merrill replied as entered the room. "But I do know of some elves in the Alienage who might appreciate the work."

"Great idea! Please, go see who you can find," Marian said. "We don't have much time left."

Presently Merrill returned with four young elven men. Marian gave them some quick instructions and let them get to work. When they finished several hours later, the windows were almost spotless. As Marian placed coins into the men's outstretched hands, they were so thankful that she wondered why she hadn't thought sooner about hiring outside help.

Just after they left, Aveline arrived, followed closely by Isabela, Sebastian, and Anders. Aveline found Marian in the kitchen, dripping with sweat and gulping water from a metal cup. "Mission accomplished, Hawke," Aveline told her. "We returned the girl to her father, he was overjoyed, end of story." She dropped four sovereigns onto a nearby table.

"Thanks, Aveline." Marian wiped her brow. "I don't know what I'd do without you." She lowered her voice. "I've come to realize that you and Varric are the only people I can count on to run the show in my absence."

"No worries, Hawke." Aveline smiled and patted Marian on the back. "If you can't trust the Captain of the Guard, who can you trust? Besides. I know I can count on you, too."

For the next couple of hours there were nine people in the house collecting and washing rags, rinsing out buckets, and otherwise putting the final touches on the enormous house. They were all ready to stop working by the time they heard a loud knock at the door.

Marian ran to answer it. Orana, Bodahn, and Sandal stood in the entry, loaded down with baskets of food and a case of wine from Marian's cellar.

"Welcome, welcome!" Marian said, waving them inside. Fenris started and took a few steps foward, as if realizing that he should have been the one to invite them in.

"Little housewarming party I arranged for you, Fenris," Marian said, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"I…thank you," he said, looking more uncomfortable by the minute.

Following Marian's lead, her heavily burdened staff made their way toward the kitchen, where they immediately began unpacking and serving the food and pouring the wine.

Marian had the men collect tables and chairs from other rooms and arrange them in what she guessed had been the dining room. Before long everyone was seated at the table with a plate of food and a glass of wine, and Marian rose to make a toast.

"Thank you, everyone, for doing your part. I really appreciate it," she said, looking slowly around the table, being sure to make eye contact with each one of them. "This was more work and more expense than I'd anticipated, but I think it will be worth it. First, we're keeping innocent children from the clutches of a crazy woman. More importantly, we're helping to ensure that none of us has to hold our nose the next time we visit Fenris." At this comment the table erupted in laughter, and Marian noted with satisfaction that even Fenris got a little smile on his face.

"Yes. Thank you for that," he said, raising his glass.

There was a chorus of "Cheers" and the sound of tinkling glass all round the table, quickly replaced by the sounds of knives and forks going to work.

Later that night, Marian and Fenris lay for the first time in a bed in Fenris' house. The room, which was off one of the private halls and adjacent to the one where they'd placed the four newly arrived bunk beds, smelled…well, not exactly clean, but decidedly less musty than it had two days ago.

"Wow, this is my first time to stay the night," Marian giggled. "It feels like we just started going out all over again."

"We did," Fenris pointed out.

"You know what I mean, smart arse." She reached out lightning-fast to twist his nipple, but he caught her wrist and moved her arm back to her side.

"I worry, Hawke," he confessed, his green eyes full of self-doubt. "Children are new to me. What do I do? How do I behave? What if one of them…hurts itself?"

"Oh, Maker, Fenris!" she said, not sure whether to laugh or get annoyed. "First of all, children are 'her' or 'him,' not 'it.' Second, you'll be fine. Just treat them like little people, that's all." She thought a moment, then corrected herself. "Little manipulative people. Who might suddenly get sick and vomit all over the floor. Or decide to go sledding down the stairs."

"This is not helping," Fenris growled.

"Seriously. You'll be fine. I'll be here most of the time anyway, and Orana will be here, and I'm sure the others will drop by as well. It won't be as difficult as you think."

"A week," Fenris said, as if trying to convince himself he could handle it. He rolled onto his side and snuggled into her, burying his nose in his hair. "You know what?" he asked, as he began to suck and nibble at her earlobe.

"What?" she replied, feeling goosebumps rise all over her body.

He moved one hand to her breast and pressed gentle, open-mouthed kisses to her neck and collarbone. When he spoke, she could feel his smile against her skin.

"I think I need some help getting to sleep. I request an advance on that trip to Antiva."


	4. Chapter 4

_In the last chapter, the gang worked together to clean up Fenris' mansion for the mages' arrival._

_Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and subscribed, and to LadyAether for pointing out that to the uninitiated, Fenris is kind of scary!_

_This will eventually turn to an M rating, but I can't promise when._

_Reviews are love :-)_

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The room was blue with pre-dawn light when Marian woke and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Normally she won the battle against her conscience and spent another 20 or 30 minutes guiltily lolling about, but this morning her heart was racing. As she hopped out of bed, Fenris grumbled something and turned his back to her, pulling the blanket up around his neck. Quickly and quietly, she donned a white shirt and tan breeches, leaving him to doze a while longer.

She ran through the details again in her head as she made her way toward the kitchen. The anonymous note Bodahn had brought with him the previous evening had said to look for the _Cormorant_ out of Ostwick at 10 bells. Orana was to arrive at the house at eight, while Aveline and Isabela would shadow the templars and their wives in case anything untoward happened. Feeling confident in the arrangements, Marian plucked a plum from the fruit basket on the counter and sank her teeth into it.

Orana's knock came at exactly eight, and Marian opened the door to find her once again loaded down with bags filled to bursting.

"Good morning!" Marian said cheerily, swinging the door wide. "More food?"

"More food and more cooking utensils, Mistress," Orana replied. "Six children—we don't want to be without."

"Right," Marian nodded. "Which reminds me. They're liable to be hungry from the journey. Why don't we have a late breakfast ready for them when they arrive?"

"As you wish, Mistress," Orana agreed, pushing past Marian into the hallway. "This will be fun! I haven't been around children in a long time," she said as the two of them hauled the supplies into the kitchen.

The banging of pots and pans soon brought Fenris stumbling into their midst. He'd dressed and brushed his hair, but even a stranger could tell he'd just woken up.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Marian said with a smile.

"So today is the day," he said with a yawn. "Orana, what can I do to make myself useful?"

"Oh, nothing, Messere. I've got it—"

"Slice the apples, you say? Fair enough." He eyed the fruit that had been laid out. Orana's apple pancake was known far and wide; there was no other possible end for these apples. He sauntered over to the counter and reached for a knife.

Marian smiled at their time-worn pattern. Fenris offered his help, Orana refused it, Fenris insisted on helping her anyway. He was always careful to support and reinforce her position in the household. It was one of the things Marian loved about him.

Two hours later, while the apple pancake finished baking and Orana started scrambling the eggs, Marian paced the main hall, nibbling at her fingernails.

"Stop that," Fenris said as he walked up to her and gently tugged her hand from her mouth. "Chewing your fingers will not speed their journey. If it is food you want, breakfast will be ready shortly."

"They're late," she mumbled distractedly. "What if Meredith heard about Cullen's plans?" she asked, turning to him with an anxious look. "She could have had her men intercept them as they disembarked. Or had them follow the group and seize the children on their way here. Or she could have had the ship turned away at the Docks. What would we do then?"

_I should have gone myself_, she realized. _Someone else could have helped make the last-minute preparations. It would be better than being stuck here, waiting._

"They are five minutes late. And we would go and find them," he said simply. "Everything is going as planned," he reassured her, pulling her backward against his chest and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "Cullen is no fool, and neither are you. You should worry more about keeping them from burning the house down this week."

She put one hand over his and squeezed it.

Not a minute later there was a knock at the door. They looked at each other for a moment. It was time.

Marian opened the door to find Ser Barrie and Ser Goway standing in the entry with their wives and the children in tow. The men's demeanor was cautious, yet calm. The children peeked around the adults, trying to see in, and Marian could see that they were a motley group of varying ages, heights, and hair colors.

"Serah Hawke," Ser Barrie said, giving the customary half-bow.

"Ser Barrie. Ser Goway. Please, come in."

The entourage proceeded inside and Marian closed the door behind them. The wives smiled politely at Marian as they entered, while the children jostled each other and tittered quietly as they made their way into the main hall, gaping at the double staircase and high ceiling.

Marian turned to the templars. "So, how did it go, do you think?"

"All is well, from what we can tell," Ser Goway volunteered, his face flushed from the late-morning sun. His wife, a petite, round-faced blonde woman, was looking around carefully, as if ensuring that the house was fit for children. Marian saw her expression sour every so slightly as she took notice of Fenris. "No signs of anything unusual, no one spying or following," Ser Goway concluded.

"I agree," Ser Barrie said. "It went off as smoothly as we could have hoped." His wife nodded, her brown ponytail bobbing up and down as her dark eyes searched Marian's face. "The children behaved very well," she added earnestly. "I think they understood the importance of being quiet and not drawing attention to themselves. A bright bunch, I'd say. And sweet, too."

Marian returned her smile. "Would you all care to join us for breakfast, Ser Barrie? There's plenty to go around."

"Thank you, but we must get back," he replied. "Ser Gowan and I are on duty, after all."

"Oh, right! I'm sorry." Marian cleared her throat. "Very well, then. You won't hear from us unless there's a problem, and we'll await word from the Knight-Captain regarding further arrangements. Correct?"

"That's our understanding," Ser Barrie said with a nod.

"Thank you very much, then. All of you," she added, looking to the wives. She showed them to the door and bade them farewell.

When she returned to the main hall, Fenris was standing in front of the children, arms hanging stiffly at his sides. The children were staring blankly at him. As she entered, six pairs of eyes turned to look at her.

"Well, hello there, little mages!" she said, striding to a spot just in front of Fenris and dropping to one knee. "I'm Miss Marian, and I'll be taking care of you this week, until it's time for the final part of your journey. This is Mister Fenris, the master of the house. He's going to help me—"

Marian's words were cut short as one of the children let loose a wail and began to sob. Everyone turned to the source of the sound: a chubby little girl with curly, chin-length red hair, wearing a yellow dress. Her green eyes were filled with tears, and she was staring up at Fenris from behind the full skirts of a taller, older girl.

"I'm Anna. I'm the oldest. I'm nine," the tall girl told Marian in a friendly tone. Her brown hair was braided in a single plait down her back, lending her a responsible air. "This is Claire. She's six. She's a little shy. And…scares easily."

"Thank you, Anna. It's nice to meet you," Marian said warmly, then held out her arms to Claire. After a moment the girl haltingly wandered over to her, still crying, not daring to take her eyes from Fenris.

"It's okay, Claire," Marian said soothingly. "It's true that Mister Fenris doesn't look like the rest of us," she said, ignoring an indignant grunt from behind her, "but he's a very nice man, and I think you'll like him very much."

Claire looked into Marian's eyes through her tears and stopped sobbing. "But he's scary," she said, her lower lip continuing to tremble. "I don't want him to help you!"

"But this is Mister Fenris' house," Marian explained. "And he's like a big puppy dog. They can look scary too at first, but they're nice, right? It will be okay, really," she said merrily, running her hand over the girl's hair.

Claire nodded and sucked in her lower lip.

"I'm Jamie," the tallest boy interrupted with a lazy smile. "I'm eight." He had thick, shaggy blond hair and hazel eyes, and the relaxed stance of someone who wasn't easily flustered.

"Nice to meet you, Jamie," Marian said, reaching out to shake his hand.

Anna continued with the introductions. 'This is Susan. She's seven," she said, gesturing at a thin, severe-looking girl with straight blonde hair and penetrating gray eyes. "She likes electricity."

_Uh oh_, Marian thought, noticing the girls' observant stare. _Better keep an eye on _that _one._

Next, Anna pointed at stout boy with curly brown hair. "That's Stefan. He's six."

"Seven," Stefan promptly corrected her, sticking out his chin. His blue eyes glared briefly at Anna. "I can do force magic," he said, turning to Marian.

"On squirrels," Anna jeered, with a hand on her hip. "It isn't like they can put up much of a fight. You should pick on someone your own size." She looked away from him, in Jamie's direction, and continued. "And the last one is Peter. He's only five. He doesn't talk much."

A small, slender boy stepped out from behind Jamie and peered up at Marian through long, dark bangs. His hair kept flopping into his big green eyes no matter how many times he pushed it away, and when his fingers brushed his ear, Marian noticed an unmistakeably pointed tip.

Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed at him. If you'd asked her to guess what Fenris had looked like as a boy, she would have described Peter—right down to the shape of his mouth. She fought the urge to look back at Fenris, not wanting to make the boy feel uncomfortable.

Peter's eyes turned from her to Fenris, and his expression as he followed the lines of the elf's lyrium markings was one of brazen curiosity.

"Hello, Peter," Marian said gently.

His eyes darted back to her, then dropped to the ground. At that angle his bangs covered his face completely. "Hi," he said, scuffing the floor with his toe.

Maker! She just wanted to pick him up and hug him until he squealed.

"Okay, kiddos, before we do anything else, I'm sure you're hungry," she said, rising to her feet. "Let's go eat."


	5. Chapter 5

_In the last chapter, Cullen's men safely delivered the magelings to Fenris' mansion and introductions were made._

_The pace should pick up a bit after this—maybe four or five chapters to go._

_Thanks for reading! Special thanks to Alaskantiger and Torilund Archer for their constructive comments._

_As always… reviews are love :-)_

~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~

She and Fenris sat on opposite ends of the dining table. She occasionally tried to catch his eye, but he was preoccupied with Jaime, who had hardly stopped talking to take a breath since they'd all sat down.

The meal was almost over and Marian was already congratulating herself. For the most part, it had gone off without a hitch. After two days on a boat, the children were starved for good food, and paid little attention to each other while they gorged on Orana's apple pancake, bacon, and eggs. Marian supposed that the unfamiliar people and surroundings were also helping to keep them on good behavior.

Just then, she heard the thunk of a glass tipping over. From the corner of her eye she saw a pool of white liquid spreading rapidly from Peter's place setting, on Fenris' right, toward the edge of the table.

"Peter, give me your napkin," Fenris said quickly, dropping his own onto the growing puddle.

"Good job, clumsy," Stefan said with a snide laugh. Peter glanced across the table at Stefan with an expression of mute surprise.

"Shut up, Stefan," said a little girl's voice to Marian's left. Every head turned to look at Claire. Her face, earlier so frightened and shining with tears, was turning red. She looked almost ready to spit.

"Claire's already had enough of Stefan," Anna explained, turning her kind brown eyes on Marian. "Stefan likes to pick on Peter, and it makes Claire angry."

"We all know how you ended up here, you big bully!" Claire complained. "Using force magic to trip people on the playground!"

"Claire, shhh," Marian said soothingly. She turned to Stefan. "So you've never spilled anything in your seven years, I take it?"

"I…never spilled anything at a _stranger's _house," Stefan protested. He clenched his jaw and scowled at Peter.

Marian turned back to Anna. "So Claire's some combination of a fraidy cat _and_ a little spitfire?"

Anna smiled and shrugged. "She's just sensitive, I think. It seems to depend on the situation." She leaned toward Marian, who tilted her head to catch the girl's words. "Claire was caught trying to heal the family dog after it got attacked by a bear," she whispered. "That's when her family decided to send her away."

"Interesting," Marian murmured, with a nod. A healer, then. Poor girl, punished for trying to help an injured animal. But it was going to happen sooner or later. Few managed to stay out of the Circle as long as Bethany had. She knew they would all have their stories—tales of being turned in by concerned family members or ratted out by frightened neighbors. She imagined she would hear them all before the week was out.

Orana came in to clear the plates. Marian would have helped, but there was no way she was going to leave Fenris to handle the six of them on his own.

"Play time!" she announced, rising from her seat. "We have books and toys, and beds if you want a nap. And if you're very, very quiet, you can go outside for a little while."

"Just a little while?" Jaime asked. His shoulders slumped and there was defeat in his hazel eyes. "Can't we just go outside and play all afternoon?"

Marian realized that he hadn't gotten his tan and his sun-bleached hair from sitting inside reading. He was probably feeling cooped up already, given their journey. She wondered how much she could tell them. _Nothing_, she quickly decided. It just wasn't safe.

"This last part of your journey is a big secret," she said, trying to make it sound dangerous and exciting. "You have one more trip to take, and no one must know you're here. That's all I can say for now."

"No one at all? Why not?" Susan asked, pulling long, blonde strands of hair through her mouth. Her thin face was so serious, Marian could almost see the gears turning in her mind.

"No one at all," Marian repeated firmly. "And I can't tell you why."

Six stricken faces looked up at her. All at once, she felt the weight of six little worlds on her shoulders.

~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~

"Let go," Fenris sputtered, as Peter grabbed hold of his leg. "Stop that…uh…what was your name again?" he asked, looking down at the boy. He'd been trying to leave the room, no doubt to heed nature's call, but Peter seemed to have other ideas. Fenris stood, helpless, and stared down at him as if he were afraid the boy would become a permanent part of his anatomy.

"Peter, let Mister Fenris go and relieve himself," Marian chided. "You don't really want to keep him from that, do you? Think about it a minute."

"Ew! No!" the boy screeched. He gave a knowing laugh and let go of his prize.

It had been a long afternoon. Books and games and drawing and quarrels and yelling—oh, the yelling! Marian felt like a veritable "hush" machine. She was glad that Susan was older and quieter than Claire, because two excitable little girls would have meant a great deal more shrieking. Ser Barrie's wife had been right about them, too—the kids were smart. Far too smart, it turned out, to fall for the "quiet game." Marian had taken the restless Jaime outside for a few minutes, but lacking other boys his age to play with and having to keep so quiet, he'd quickly grown bored.

Just past five bells, there was a knock at the door. Orana ran to get it and returned with Varric and Sebastian. As their guests entered the main hall, Fenris was rubbing his temples and Marian's hair was sticking up in ten different directions. Marian braced herself for the ribbing that was sure to come.

"I see we're just in time, Hawke!" Varric chuckled, making his way to the adjoining main living area. He dropped onto a settee, put his muscular forearms behind his head, and propped his booted feet up on the low table. "I figured you two would need a break by now. Choirboy was nice enough to come with me."

"Maker, you aren't kidding," Marian said with a rueful laugh. "They've been here six hours and it already feels like six days! What have I done?"

"What have you done, indeed," Fenris added. "Aveline must have the City Guard ready and able. _We_ certainly won't be much use to Kirkwall this week."

"Bethany and Carver were close enough to me in age that I never helped Mother with them much," Marian said, ignoring his comment. She sat down beside Varric and sighed at the relief in her feet. "Poor Mother."

"Don't worry, Hawke," Varric reassured her. "I won't tell a soul that in the end, the Champion of Kirwall was felled without a fight by six mages under the age of ten. I won't write a story about how she underestimated their powers of destruction, their debilitating screams…"

"Varric! They're adorable, don't get me wrong," she interrupted. "I just don't know that anyone was meant to have this many at once."

"You're a wealthy woman now, Hawke," Sebastian said. "When you have your own, you'll be able to hire help. In fact, I rarely saw my own mother." Marian noticed his matter-of-fact tone and wondered if he was finally coming to grips with his mother's death. He turned and walked into the adjoining room and dropped to the floor next to Susan, who was working intently at a wooden puzzle.

"I suppose I could," she said, mostly to herself. She avoided looking at Fenris. She could only imagine what he'd think right now of her wish to bear a brood.

"Why don't you two take a rest?" Varric suggested, rising to follow Sebastian. "We'll handle the youngsters for a while."

"Thanks, Varric. You get an extra helping of dessert tonight!" Marian said with a wink.

Fenris wandered over and took Varric's place on the settee, and Marian put her head on his shoulder. "It could be worse," Fenris said, throwing his arm around her. "No one has tried using any magic yet."

"This is true."

Orana prepared dinner for eleven with her usual aplomb, and afterward the adults took turns telling stories until the children's eyelids began to droop. It had been a long day for them, too. After Varric and Sebastian left, Marian and Fenris showed the youngsters to the boys' and girls' rooms, lit the oil lamps, and tucked them into the new bunk beds. Claire was on the bottom bunk in the girls' room, and Marian had Fenris kneel next to her while she bade the redhead goodnight.

"Mister Fenris is an elf," Marian said softly. "You know what an elf is, right?"

"Yes. But…Petriel doesn't have those lines," Claire whispered, looking up at her, wide-eyed.

_Petriel?_ Marian was confused for a moment. _Oh. Peter._

"Those lines are very special," Marian said. "In fact, you probably won't see any others for as long as you live. Look closer. Aren't they pretty?"

Marian knew this comment was likely to start an argument with Fenris later, but she didn't care. He knew she found his markings indescribably beautiful, and she knew that deep down he still resented them. Soon after meeting, they'd had one too many at the Hanged Man and she'd made the mistake of saying, "Danarius had excellent taste in body art." She hadn't heard the end of it for a week. She'd also guessed that he was secretly flattered—and hated that fact as well.

Fenris raised his forearm toward the mattress on the bottom bunk, and Claire reached out and tenatively traced her index finger along one long, scrolling tattoo.

"They _are _pretty," she decided. She chanced a shy look at Fenris' face, her green eyes meeting his.

"Good night, little one," he said.

"Good night." Claire looked briefly at Marian, seemingly relieved at the chance to withdraw, and turned toward the wall to go to sleep.

"So, one day down," Marian said as she sat, still fully dressed, on the bed, pulling a comb through her unkempt hair. "How are you holding up?"

"Not…bad," Fenris faltered. From his tone she knew that he was, for once, lying for her sake.

"I asked Varric to have the others drop by tomorrow and the next day."

"That will help," he agreed.

They undressed and climbed into bed, and Fenris blew out the lamp. Normally he lifted his arm to invite her to lie on his chest while they drifted off, but tonight he made no move to do so.

"Good night," she said, and leaned over to kiss him.

"Good night." He reached up and gave her a brief kiss on the lips, then let his head fall back onto his pillow.

She rolled away her other side, and in no time she heard his breathing fall into a slow, regular pattern. She couldn't blame him—it had been an exhausting day—but she'd wanted to talk to him and maybe give him some pointers on dealing with the children. His reticence at touching and being touched had been painfully evident all day, and he didn't even know their names yet.

_I can't stay up worrying about it_, she thought as a yawn overcame her.

The next morning she wouldn't even remember having closed her eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

_In a moonlit forest clearing they descended on him, one after another, an endless procession of those who wanted him dead. Some he recognized, others he did not; no matter, his hatred for them was equal. His heart pounded and he heard the rush of blood in his ears, and he knew if he took a moment's rest he would fall, staring, lifeless, to the ground, limbs akimbo, silvery hair disheveled like so much straw on an old barn floor._

_He could not let them win, these people who had crushed him underfoot, denied him his own life, his own thoughts, his own interests, and left him with no dreams to speak of. They had instilled this feeling of inevitability, this inability to imagine anything but belonging to someone, being owned, being inextricably tied to one person or another through decade after interminable decade, until his last breath left his frail and aged body._

_So he whirled and leapt and slashed his way free. White light glinted in his locks and lit the lyrium in his skin as he brought his greatsword down on the head of one man, tore another open from shoulder to hip, and severed an elven woman's hamstrings before plunging his blade through her chest. He reserved his gift for the ones he knew best, hoping against hope he could spare a few seconds to savor their horror as he closed an icy fist and pulled a heart free. Free, to freedom! He'd never felt so alive as when one slumped to the ground and a gushing blood fountain spouted from where that muscle had been._

Fenris started awake. He was drenched in sweat, and his heart thudded in his chest. He needed to move. He peeled the sheets from his clammy skin, sat up, and swung his legs slowly over the edge of the bed. He crept half-way to the bedroom door before remembering that he and Marian weren't alone in the house. _Far from it_. In the dark he dropped to a crouch and felt around on the floor for his braies. After slipping them on, he slinked into the sitting room.

His heart was still thumping as he sat down on the sofa. He felt dizzy and faint as he tried to steady his his hands. What was happening to him?

_Love is betrayal is death._

He'd killed them all. Hadriana, Danarius—even Varania. There was no one left. He owed no one. No one would come after him, no one could take him away. So what was this sudden, insistent urge to flee?

He shook his head and tried to push the feeling from his mind. It made no sense. Sure, Kirkwall was falling apart at the seams, but he was free now. He had friends he could rely on, a place at the side of the Champion of Kirkwall…

The more he tried to reason with himself, the heavier the black panic settled over him, threatening to steal the breath from his lungs. His heart, rather than relaxing to compensate, began racing again—an apparent effort to suck the last of the oxygen from his blood.

_Freedom is nothing is death._

He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing. It was no good. His pulse raced and slowed, raced and slowed. The nausea returned, and he knew his skin wasn't actually crawling with ants, but damned if he could tell the difference. He realized he was sweating right through his braies and onto Marian's sofa, the one she was so proud of, the one with the fine ivory-toned upholstery embroidered with the Amell family crest. _Mustn't soil the master's…_

"Fasta vaas!" His cry echoed through the cavernous rooms.

He was out of his head.

_Love is betrayal is death._

_Freedom is nothing is death._

The Chantry bells rang four times. He lay down on his side, exhausted, and drifted off immediately into a heavy, dreamless sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~

The next morning, Marian woke to shrieks of youthful laughter. She rolled over and rubbed her eyes and noticed that Fenris' side of the bed was empty. Odd.

Just then the door opened. Fenris slid hurriedly inside and shut the door behind him, clad in nothing but his favorite underclothes, worn thin and full of holes.

"What's going on, Fenris?" she asked, yawning the words into the back of her hand.

He glanced out the window. "I, uh…I had a bit of trouble sleeping, so I lay down in the sitting room," he said sheepishly. He sounded bone-tired.

"Aw, come here," she said, patting his side of the bed. He slid in beside her and pulled up the covers before closing his eyes and burrowing into the pillow.

"…had terrible nightmares," he muttered.

"Want to talk about it?" She rolled onto her side and brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. It twitched at her touch. She tickled it again, on purpose this time.

"Stop," he said, eyes still closed.

"No? Don't want to talk about it?" She sighed. "Always so good at dodging personal questions. All right; we have to get up and take care of the children anyway. Who, I take it from the shrieking, found you in your smalls this morning."

He grunted. "You'd think they'd never seen someone in his underwear before."

Marian giggled. "Well, I don't know how things are done in Tevinter, but here in Ferelden, adults don't generally go around in their underpants."

~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~

The next two days passed in much the same way as the previous one had. Orana helped keep the magelings fed while Fenris and Marian read to them, played with them, broke up arguments (mostly between Claire and Stephan), and took turns taking them all outside. Under duress, Marian invented a silent variant of hide-and-seek that they played by fours in the dappled shade of the courtyard.

The second evening, Fenris watched Jamie and Susan for a few minutes while Claire squirmed in Marian's lap and poked at her face. The two older children were on the floor, several feet away. Susan sat working at yet another puzzle as Jamie regaled her with feats of playground bravery. Suddenly she smiled up at him, seemingly in spite of herself. It was the first smile she'd given anyone since arriving at the house. What did a severe, intellectual girl see in a boy like Jamie? The two of them were nothing alike. Relationships had always been a mystery to Fenris, romantic ones especially so.

The children's remaining stories gradually emerged, by way of Anna. She and Jamie, she said, had been turned over to the templars by their parents so they could learn to control their magic. Susan's parents had found her zapping various barnyard animals with tiny jolts of electricity and scrawling notes in a private journal. An observant neighbor had seen Peter's dancing fingers arranging fallen leaves in vibrant patterns on the surface of the Alienage canal.

Fenris' face twisted into a frown when he heard that. He'd scolded Peter yesterday for levitating some wooden blocks, and the crestfallen look on the boy's face had made something ache in his chest. A troubling thought niggled at the back of his mind: _Surely _this _one would not aspire to a life of dominating others…?_

Claire interrupted his thoughts when she tried to clamber into his lap. He felt himself stiffen, as he always did when someone got too close. A bitter blackness washed unexpectedly over him. A little human girl was climbing around on him, playing with his hair, and the only thing he could think of was how to escape, as if she were some detestable adult or filthy, slobbering animal. How could he feel so wooden and desperate to flee because a child smiled up at him? _Curse it all_, he thought—his awkwardness, his inability to connect with others, the ingrained avoidance that he never seemed able to overcome. Even with Danarius gone, he was still running, still hiding—not from captors, now, but from everyone else, and he had no suitable or even mildly rational excuse. _I am lost_, he thought. _There is something wrong with me. I will never be right. I will never belong._

~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~

That night he fell into bed, beside Marian, exhausted.

"You got all their names right today," she said, as she lay her head on his chest.

"Did I?" He remembered his thoughts about Claire from earlier, and his cheeks burned. "How much longer?"

"Three days."

He let out a heavy sigh. "You will hate me for saying so, but…I long for something to kill."

Marian punched him in the shoulder.

~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~

He had nightmares again, every bit as bad as the first time, but he forced himself to remain in the bedroom and resist rolling over every two minutes. What did the dreams mean? He was too tired to make sense of them. After the last few days with a house full of people, he could hardly think clearly about what was happening in the real world, never mind about what was going on in the Fade.


End file.
